I smile to myself as I think about my best friend and pull the bags from the back seat. Hannah is going to be a mom, and that is absolutely perfect. No one deserves a happily ever after more than my best friend.
I bump the door closed with my hip before I start up the walkway to the house. When I reach the steps to the front patio, I notice that the door is ajar. This might not be weird some of the time, but considering that it’s still the middle of winter, it’s a little odd. I push the door slightly, doing my best to be quiet. I’ve seen enough horror movies in my time to know that you definitely shouldn’t call out your location to a serial killer. The people that do that always die.
Then I step into the foyer and freeze. Standing in the middle of the living room in nothing but a thong and five-inch heels is motherfucking Malibu Barbie.
She has her arms wrapped around Jami’s neck, licking the shell of his ear. My blood runs as cold as ice and I’m paralyzed in place as I watch her paw all over him. It doesn’t take me long to realize that neither of them heard me come in the front door. My legs feel like lead as I slowly back out of the foyer and into the yard.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath when I reach the front lawn. My palms are starting to sweat and my heart feels like it’s jackhammering in my chest. The grocery bags crash onto the lawn as I drop to my knees in the snow. “What the fuck?” I gasp, trying my best to breathe.
It feels like I’m having a panic attack. It’s never been this bad before. I literally can’t get air into my lungs, and my entire body is shaking. My stomach lurches, so I lean forward, pulling my hair to the side.
I was lied to. I was cheated on. I was betrayed. He begged me to trust him, he sneaked his way into my heart, and when I finally bought the whole damn con hook, line, and sinker, he kicked the stool out from under me. What the fuck was I thinking?
Not only did I just have to see the entire fucking thing, but now, I was either going to pass out or vomit in his front yard. Considering my luck, I’d likely end up doing both. And yes, in exactly the shitty order you’re thinking of.
I remain like that—on the front lawn, in the snow, trying not to toss my cookies—for what seems like hours. In reality, I’m certain it’s been a minute, maybe two. When I’m sure I’m not going to be sick, I pull my legs out from under me and sit down on my ass, putting my head between my knees. I’ve never actually had a panic attack before, but that’s what people do in the movies when they have one. Either that or they breathe into one of those paper bags… But I don’t have one of those.
I know I need to move. The very last thing I need would be for them to see me like this. At the very least, I can keep my pride intact. Even if my heart is in a million broken pieces at the bottom of my stomach, at least I’d have my pride. Fucking stupid. I stand slowly. I’m a little lightheaded, and it causes me to sway on the spot. I look like a mess. My ass and knees are wet from the snow and there are groceries all over the lawn, littering the white snow.
I start to clean it up, putting everything back inside the bags, when I finally decide, Fuck it! I walk in on some skanky bitch who wears too much fake tanner with her hands all over my man and I have to clean up the mess? Fuck that! I throw the items I started to pick up down onto the grass before marching back to my car. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about her, about them. Did he not expect me home this early? Was everything he said a crock of shit?
“I deserve better than this,” I growl to myself as I yank open the car door. The second the words leave my lips, steel engulfs my spine. “I do fucking deserve better than this.” I slam the door before turning around to walk back towards the house.
His betrayal may hurt like fucking hell. It may cripple my chances at every finding love again, but I am not going to let another man wound me like this. Not without standing up for myself. I am not a weak twelve-year-old girl anymore. This time, the asshole on the end of my heartbreak is going to get a fucking mouthful.
My fists clench and unclench at my sides as I storm back up the walkway. I momentarily wish that I had the lacrosse stick I keep under my bed at home with me. Not because I think I’d actually hit one of them with it, but it sure as shit would make me feel more badass.
When I step onto the patio, I take one last deep breath and straighten my spine before walking in the front door for the second time in less than five minutes. I open my mouth to make way for the stream of unladylike profanities that is about to fill the room when I stop cold—again.
Jami has his hands out in front of him, almost in some kind of protective stance, and Kelsey is circling him like a deranged predator. She’d probably be a tiger with all the fake tanner she’s wearing. Instead of barging in crazy-bitch style like I planned, I stay where I am, watching the scene before me play out.